


Happy Birthday, to me

by Lonely_Broccoli



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Birthday, Birthday Party, Bullying, Family Fluff, Kid Fic, Light Angst, M/M, No Incest, Sibling Bonding, Sibling Rivalry, Video & Computer Games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-25 22:28:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17733839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lonely_Broccoli/pseuds/Lonely_Broccoli
Summary: There's one certain memory etched into Osamu's mind. It takes place all the way back to their seventh birthday, back when they were squabbling over chocolate decorations and getting scolded.But soon after, Osamu discovers a disturbing truth. On his birthday, no less.





	Happy Birthday, to me

**Author's Note:**

> heyy it's your favourite fuckerydoo, Em. My friend https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alianovna_Levieva/pseuds/Alianovna_Levieva requested something Atsumu and I said "fuck yeah", and wrote this in under a day. Please enjoy it.

There's one memory that has stuck with Osamu, popping up from the back of his mind at seemingly random moments.

It was Osamu's seventh birthday. It was Atsumu's too, for that matter, but everyone seemed to care a little less about that fact. Osamu had noticed, but he chose not to say anything. He didn't want to stir up an argument, and really, he was still just a little angry at him for playing on his Super Mario save file.

“Osamu, Atsumu, come in and help me with the decorations!”

“Yeah!”

They raced each other into the kitchen, where a gorgeous feast was laid out. Their mother’s cooking was sublime, and both of them were all too eager to help her with the finishing touches. A sponge cake decorated with sweet strawberry cream sat at the centre of the table, boasting its presence.

“Alright, Osamu, you do the sprinkles. Atsumu, you do the chocolate buttons. Call me when you’re done.”

Their mother handed each of them a small plastic bowl with the decorations inside, which looked delicious on their own. Osamu didn’t plan on eating the sprinkles, but his brother’s chocolate buttons looked amazingly tempting.

“Atsumu, can I have one? I want to eat it!”

Osamu’s pleading was met with a devilish glare. “No! Mom said these are for decorating! Osamu-pig!”

“If I’m a pig, then you’re an uglier pig!” Osamu fought back, elbowing Atsumu hard. He didn’t have to make it personal, but he did. He could always count on Atsumu for that.

Atsumu stumbled backwards, his hand knocking against his bowl of chocolate buttons. It was too late before either of them could save it. The chocolates were thrown onto the floor, scattering in every direction with the _clank_ of the plastic bowl hitting the floor.

Osamu gasped softly. He hadn’t meant this to happen. They were Atsumu’s decorations, and he felt a stab of guilt for ruining them. He hadn’t tried to do that on purpose. He wanted to apologise, for a moment.

“Idiot! This is all your fault!”

He took all of that back. He wasn’t going to apologise, ever, even if his life depended on it.

“Mama!”

Their mother whipped around, took one look at the mess, and gave both of her sons an icy glare. “Get a dustpan and brush and clean it up. Right now.”

“That’s not fair! It was Osamu! He elbowed me!”

“Clean it up! And behave yourselves!”

Atsumu muttered about the unfairness of it all under his breath, as he reluctantly walked out of the kitchen to get a dustpan and a brush. Osamu glanced at him when he thought he wasn’t looking at him, placing sprinkles on the cake silently.

As Atsumu cleaned up the chocolate buttons on the floor, he scrunched his nose up at Osamu spitefully. Osamu stuck out his tongue at him. He didn’t deserve sympathy. He’d called him a pig, and he got what he deserved.

Stupid Atsumu. Dumb-dumb head.

The first guest arrived two hours and fifteen minutes later. Osamu had been staring at the digital clock on the oven on and off, and he bolted as soon as he heard the doorbell.

“I’m getting it! I’m getting it!”

Osamu fumbled with the lock before hurling open the door, revealing his friend Shouta from school. “Happy birthday, Osamu!” He handed him a package, wrapped unevenly so that he could actually see what was inside. “You always wanted this, right?”

It was a Mikasa volleyball, brand new and squeaky clean. “Thanks so much! I wanted a volleyball for a long time!”

Atsumu had followed close behind, having heard the sound of the doorbell. “Look, Atsumu! Isn’t it awesome? I might let you play with it if you’re nice to me!”

Atsumu blew a raspberry in Osamu’s face. “I don’t wanna play with your volleyball! Stop being stupid, Osamu!”

“I definitely won’t lend it to a meanie like you! Come on, Shou-kun. Let’s go play inside.” Osamu turned away from his annoyed brother and marched into the living room, pulling out the SNES games to play. “Wait, haven’t you gotten something for Atsumu?”

Shouta looked confused. “I’m _your_ classmate, Osamu. Why should I get something for your brother?”

Osamu could tell that he didn’t care, under his mask of friendliness. It wasn’t that he hated his brother, or didn’t get him a present out of spite. He just didn’t care enough to bring him one too, even if it were a bag of chocolates.

“Happy birthday, Osamu!”

“I got presents for you guys!”

“Here’s your present!”

As more and more guests swarmed to their front door, Osamu found out that there were less presents for Atsumu than he thought. In fact, most of his friends only showed up with one bag, one present. They could have forgotten, he mused, but even he knew that he wasn’t fooling himself with that one. They were identical twins.

Osamu couldn’t wrap his head around why they didn’t bother giving them the same presents. He normally loathed matching outfits, bags or anything for that matter, but as more guests rang their doorbell, Osamu found himself wishing for two presents sitting inside the pretty little present boxes and shopping bags.

“Dinner time, everyone!”

His mother called the kids, who were now screaming over Super Smash Bros on the Nintendo 64. “Come on, let’s go eat! My mom made this amazing cake-”

The cake. Osamu wondered how it looked, after the spat he had with Atsumu caused all those chocolate buttons to go to waste. Although he hadn’t felt a shred of remorse for his mean, dirty sewage pipe brother, he found himself regretting his stupid decision more and more.

Osamu plopped beside Atsumu, not wanting to leave his brother alone. “What’re you gonna eat first? I’m gonna eat the chicken!” He reached for a tender piece of fried chicken, and placed one on Atsumu’s plate as well after a moment of thought.

“Well, it’s gonna be the chicken now.” Osamu saw Atsumu smile, and everything instantly felt better. No matter how much of a butt his brother is, he would never wish for him to be frowny and sulking on his birthday.

They both demolished their food in quick succession, as the other kids did. And when his mother brought out the cake, they all sang happy birthday to him. Osamu ended up singing out Atsumu’s name a little louder than necessary, but he didn’t care about his own obnoxiousness.

“Let’s go play video games again! I want to play team battle mode!”

“Osamu’s on my team!”

Atsumu sat on the floor in front of the couch, staring at the screen filled with pixelated colour and characters battling it out. “When can I play? I’ve been waiting forever! Come on, Osamu!”

“Fine, fine. You can take my controls, Atsumu.”

Osamu didn’t even pretend to sound annoyed at his brother as he handed him the controller. “You’re playing as Ness.” He sat back and watched the fighting take place in the in-game world, while he attempted to suppress the fighting going on inside his head.

After a few battles that Atsumu came out either victorious or as a miserable loser, it became apparent that everyone was losing interest. “Let’s go outside. We’ll go to the playground.” The other children started to plan where they were going next, while Atsumu was in the middle of battling ten enemies at once.

“Osamu, you wanna come too?”

Atsumu waved his hand at Osamu impatiently. “Later! I’ll be there later. Go with them.”

“All right, then.”

As soon as Osamu slipped on his shoes and jogged over to the other kids, they bolted into a run. Osamu followed them, his stamina causing him little difficulty as he chased them in the general direction they were running in. Which, come to think of it, was not where the playground was meant to be.

“Where are we going?”

“The open space outside the estate. We’ll have the space and peace there.”

Osamu frowned quizzically. “Peace? The playground isn’t under construction. I think it’s peaceful there too.”

Shouta heaved a sigh. “Osamu, they’re talking about your brother.”

If Osamu could have seen himself, he was positive he would have noticed the colour draining out of him swiftly. “What did Atsumu do? Why are you guys…” he paused, beginning to connect the dots. “Why?”

“Don’t you know? Nobody _really_ likes him. He’s selfish and stuck-up. Everyone thinks he’s annoying.”

Osamu bit his lip. “You can’t say that behind his back! That’s just being a bully!” He protested, but he knew what all of them were talking about. They didn’t like Atsumu’s harsh, blunt ways of communicating, or the way he didn’t always think about working as a team. But there was so much more beyond that, he knew. He could kick and smack his brother, but only he was allowed to do that. He knew when to stop, what kinds of things he would never say.

“I gotta- I gotta go. I’ll be back in a bit.”

Osamu lied through his teeth, and dashed all the way back to his house. He could hear his classmates call after him, and some attempted to chase him, but gave up after realising the futility of their actions. He needed to find Atsumu. Screw the birthday party, he needed to be beside his brother.

“Mama? Where’s Atsumu?” He yelled, crashing into his house and panting. He could taste the metal in his mouth and feel his heart pounding inside his head, but it was nothing compared to the heaviness in his chest. “Is he still here?”

“He told me he went to the park with you guys, haven’t you seen him yet?”

The park. Osamu immediately knew which one she was talking about. They’d been there ever since they were toddlers taking their first steps. It was a place of nostalgia and togetherness, for them.

“No.”

Osamu bolted back out, stopping briefly to catch his breath before breaking into a run again. He stumbled over a bump in the path and fell on his knees, but picked himself up and continued to run until he reached the park. His throat and knees throbbed with every step, but he didn’t stop until he reached the swing sets, which had paint peeling off them from being in use for so long.

“ _Atsumu!_ You’re here!”

Osamu collapsed in front of the swing sets, breathing harshly in between coughs. “I was looking for you, Atsumu! I’m so-”

He stopped. Atsumu was _crying._

“Hey, come on. What’s the matter?” Osamu sat on the swing next to him, reaching out to wrap his arm around his shoulder. Atsumu pulled back quickly, glaring at him through bleary eyes.

“You know what’s the matter.”

Osamu felt a stab of guilt, straight to his gut. “Atsumu-”

Atsumu sobbed, wiping his eyes angrily with the back of his hand. It was obvious that he didn’t want to be seen crying, but Osamu couldn’t tear his eyes off him. “I don’t want to play with your stupid friends. I don’t want to play your stupid games. I don’t want you to lend me your stupid volleyball!”

Osamu ranted through tears of frustration, ugly sobs penetrating the silence shared between them. “I know, Atsumu. I’m sorry. I don’t care about them more than I care about you. We’re brothers! We have to take care of each other!”

“Please,” Atsumu gripped Osamu’s sleeve, tears dripping down onto the ground covered with wood chips. “Please, no, I don’t wanna be _alone_ anymore.”

“You’re not alone.” Osamu’s chest squeezed, and it wasn’t from the exhaustion. He didn’t know what his brother went through on a daily basis. He never showed any signs. Only now was he crashing down, sobbing into his brother’s shoulder.

Atsumu sniffled, wiping his face in Osamu’s t-shirt. “I am too. They don’t like me. I know they don’t.” Osamu could only give him an understanding nod. “I don’t care. I don’t like them either. I hate them.”

“I know, Atsumu. It’s okay. I’m with you.”

Atsumu responded by enveloping Osamu into a tight hug, letting out loud, uncontrolled cries. “I don’t like being left out, Osamu. They’re so mean. I hate it when they keep running away from me, I just want to play with them!”

“I just wanted to be friends with them.”

Osamu didn’t leave his brother’s side for the entire day, until he was sure that all his classmates had returned home. They were many things, but they weren’t his friends, for sure. He promised himself to share every last bit of food he’d gotten, and let Atsumu play with all his new toys for as long as he liked.

When they returned home, it was almost nine. Their mother had lectured them for ten minutes, but there was no punishment. Whether it was because of Atsumu’s red eyes and runny nose or his own scraped knees, he didn’t know. But they were both sent to bed once his mother disinfected his injuries and placed Doraemon plasters on them.

The events of that day was permanently etched into Osamu’s mind. Atsumu had hit it off well with his new classmates in his second year of elementary, and they never had to spend a birthday like that again. Osamu often wonders whether Atsumu remembers that day at all anymore, but something tells him that he does.

It’s the memory that pops out during the most unexpected moments, such as when he’s daydreaming or even walking down the street and glancing at some kid with ice cream around their mouth. Osamu is certain he’ll never forget that day, until he’s old and grey.

**Author's Note:**

> please do leave a comment.


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